John's Phantom
by dontshootthegypsy
Summary: A dancer for the London opera aspires to become the lead tenor in this Phantom of the Opera inspired tale. Johnlock ensues.
1. Chapter 1

John and the Phantom of the Opera

I do not own the characters in the following story

Chapter 1

1870 London

John never could be fully comfortable performing onstage. It seemed curious that his passion also happened to be a bit of a fear for him. The other dancers were stretching around him as they all warmed up for rehearsal. John's best friend, closer to a brother, flopped down next to him on stage to the chagrin of his fellow ballerinas.

"For a dancer you sure can be graceless you know that?"

Greg grinned in response. "Well we can't all act like we have a stick up our arses now can we?"

"Tosser" John shoved Greg playfully before finishing his stretches. "You are cutting it close Greg. We're almost to go on." John stood up about ready to begin.

Greg had the decency to look sheepish before he replied, "Well it's not as if I'm regularly late now am I? I had something, or rather, someone to deal with."

"Oh?" John gave Greg a knowing look.

"Shove off I didn't mean it that way! If you must know.."

"Oy! You two, we're about to go on!" One of the dancers, Sally, interrupted.

True to her word the new lead soprano was about finished with her opening solo which was the queue for the ballerinas to enter. John and Greg waited a few beats with the other male ballerinas before following the ladies on stage. John's partner Sally was upstage left and Greg's partner Molly was right center. John tended to be slightly jealous that Greg's partner was not only better company but a stronger dancer that Sally. Being partners with Sally meant he was constantly placed in the back row, never able to be in the forefront. He used to think it meant he was also a weak dancer but Greg, Molly, and a few other companions assured John that the reason he was paired with her so often was because he was one of the few with the patience and talent to handle her personality. His ballet skills also made it possible for her to look better than she truly was. So here he was, lifting Sally, focusing his energy on trying to make sure she stayed in time with everyone else to not draw attention. Dancing with Sally was always a strenuous task.

The group was three quarters through the scene when a sudden thump, yell, and floor tremble halted all on the stage. Anderson dropped his partner again.

"You fool! I cannot work in these conditions!" A woman with a thick French accent and curly black hair screamed before she stormed offstage. Anderson chased after his partner trailed by the director and several stage hands.

"Well looks like we won't be working on any group numbers anytime soon." Greg called out to his colleagues. A murmur of agreement and annoyance rolled across the stage. John sighed. Dealing with Anderson's mistakes was grating his nerves but at least he got a break from Sally for a while. He snaked his way through the crowd to Greg and Molly.

"Seems we have some time on our hands now eh John?" Greg slapped John on the shoulder.

"It appears so. Molly, how have you been?"

Molly gave a warm and timid smile. "Hello John. I've been well, a bit nervous about opening night tomorrow." Molly looked between Greg and John in the nervous way she often does. John always thought she seemed a bit unsure and skittish, a rare thing among female ballerinas these days.

"Off the stage. All of you!" A voice boomed from the left. John snapped from his thoughts and looked around. Moriarty. The newest owner of the opera house glared at the dancers until they scurried off, a bit frightened at his intensity.

John, Greg, and Molly stood in the wings not sure what to do with themselves.

"I do like that new soprano. She has such a lovely voice don't you think Greg?" Molly wondered aloud breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Oh yes. Quite lovely. Too lovely for the lead tenor don't you think John?" Greg looked pointedly at John whom did not miss the intention behind the remark.

"I think they sound just fine together thank you very much." John replied coolly to shut down anything Greg was going to reveal to Molly.

Greg turned to Molly, "John sings. He's remarkable if I do say so myself. He hardly lets anyone hear though. Like an angel he is. Why just last month I heard him singing in the practice room before the others had arrived and it was haunting. I get chills just thinking about it."

John stood there listening utterly flabbergasted that his best mate had told something so revealing about him to a fellow ballerina. Wait a second. "You were spying on my in the practice room?"

"Ah sorry about that. It wasn't intentional I swear."

"Right." John felt very vulnerable knowing Greg had heard him singing the song he had been working on. His jaw was set tight as he stared among the chairs trying not to think of the eyes set upon him by the two next to him. He could tell Molly was about to say something to try and save their conversation but John was not going to have that. He was going to be angry for a while longer.

"It's obvious we won't be dancing anytime soon so I'll be in the practice room." John marched backstage. He weaved through the various actors, dancers, singers, and stagehands until he made it to the practice room made for the dancers. The room wasn't as well lit or as well kept as the practice room for the singers but he didn't mind too much. Compared to the hell hole he grew up in, most places were a slice of heaven. John let out a long suffering sigh and lied down on the floor staring at the intricate ceiling above.

Dance and music had always been John's escape when he was scared or upset. Dance always seemed like a struggle, or a fight, and he has been fighting his entire life. When he was a child living in poverty living was a struggle. People often tried to take advantage of him or his family, he had to learn to fight to survive and protect those he loved. He mastered the skill without much difficulty. When the ballet company allowed him to join he saw it as his way out. Dance is a fight for life for himself and his family. He has control in dance. But singing, singing is something else entirely. To John, singing is like baring his soul for all to see. He feels raw, like an exposed nerve. The first thing he ever pursued just for himself. Maybe he was too hard on Greg, he was just supporting him. He should go find him.

John stood up and dusted off his tights and paused. He heard a low noise. Something was resonating inside his chest, a rumble inside his ribcage. John stood in fear as he listened to the low bass tones swirl around the large room. There was something soothing yet exhilarating about the voice he couldn't explain. John strained to listen harder to the bass notes striking his soul directly. He could swear the voice was becoming louder, like the voice was searching for him. Focusing harder on the words the voice was singing he made out the single word, "John". He wanted to answer but nothing was escaping his open mouth. The mysterious voice continued singing his name in the deep tones that touched his soul. The source of the powerful voice must have been getting closer for he could hear it clearly now "John". As quickly as the voice had appeared, it disappeared. Not a moment later Greg walked into the room with Molly in tow.

"John?" Greg and Molly asked hesitantly. He must have looked frightened by the way the approached him. John snapped out of his trance, "Greg. Molly. I was on my way to find both of you. But I heard.." John trailed not knowing how to describe what he had heard without it seeming as if he was going mad.

"You heard what John?" Greg prompted.

"Footsteps. I figured it was you and Molly approaching so I decided to wait here to see." John lied and gave a small smile to the two before walking over to them. Greg didn't seem to believe him but Molly accepted the hastily established lie easily enough. John needed to change the subject in order for Greg to move on and he knew just what would get him distracted.

"I haven't seen Mycroft around lately. I wonder where he could be." John baited Greg.

Greg looked skeptical at first before he groaned and shifted his body weight. He took the bait, good.

"One less micromanaging producer to worry about I say. That pompous man! I swear if I hear that blasted umbrella tapping the stage one more time I'm going to have a fit!" Greg was good and gone on his tirade. Molly watched slightly aghast as Greg continued on his rant about Mycroft giving John the liberty of letting out a sigh of relief. John could be with his thoughts for a few minutes before Greg finished his verbal abuse of the producer. What was that he heard? That voice struck something inside him he didn't even know existed; he was terrified of the power that voice alone held over him. Who was the owner of that deep voice? John hopped dearly that whoever it was did not see his reaction. Surely he would never live it down if the singer revealed how he had reacted to the others in the opera. John groaned inwardly. Greg seemed to think John's painful expression was in response to what he was saying because he spoke directly to John right after, "Oh are you defending this umbrella wielding lunatic now?"Greg accused.

John had to think quickly, he looked to Molly who seemed startled at the conversation to say the least, "No, I was simply thinking of poor Molly here. She, being a lady, has probably not heard such perverse language Gregory." John gave a piercing stare.

"Oh right, I do apologize Molly." Greg gave a half hearted apology. "So what do you say we return? Maybe Anderson's partner made the foolish decision to trust him again."

The three of them headed back to the stage but not before John turned to give a curious gaze around the room.

The rest of rehearsal went as expected. The director was in a mood because of the lost time trying to get Anderson and his partner back so he was taking it out on the performers. Six hours later everyone was finally released to their homes, tomorrow was opening night and they would be at the opera house all day.

"I suggest a good night's sleep to all for tomorrow will be the beginning of a week of constant performances."

The cast broke off their separate ways to collect their personal belongings.

"Well I'm off John. See you in the morning mate." Greg called as he swung a bag full of his clothes over his shoulder. John gave a wave and went back to packing his things. He was always one of the last to leave after rehearsals, tonight not being an exception. John finished packing his clothes and shoes in his bag. He looked around and saw he was once again the last one there. He left his bag on the ground and wandered into the stage. The room was dark as the candles in the room were no longer lit. John stood in the middle of the stage and breathed. He breathed in the room and imagined what it would be like if he were the star. The room packed with people to hear him sing. John outstretched his arms. Here, at night after rehearsals John could live out his biggest lie. He walked to the front of the stage and lit a single candle, enough to see immediately around him. He looked out into the empty crowd, unable to see more than 6 feet in front of himself. Only when he was truly alone did John have the courage to sing. Imagining a crowd there for him he sang. If there was anyone there to hear, they would witness a hauntingly beautiful tenor piercing the silence like an angel.

Quand au hasard des jours  
Je m'en vais faire un tour  
A mon ancienne adresse  
Je ne reconnais plus  
Ni les murs, ni les rues  
Qui ont vu ma jeunesse  
En haut d'un escalier  
Je cherche l'atelier  
Dont plus rien ne subsiste  
Dans son nouveau décor  
Montmartre semble triste et les lilas sont morts

La bohème, la bohème. On était jeunes, on était fous  
La bohème, la bohème. Ça ne veut plus rien dire du tout

(La Bohème)

John finished his verse and let out a sigh. He wished he had the courage to sing for others, to bare his soul to another and feel accepted truly. He blew out the candle and wet to get his bag. John gave the stage another longing glance before he headed into the cool night air back to his home.

Back in the opera house sat a lonely man staring at the now empty stage with unhidden longing. Little did John know, his wish to be heard had been granted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The sun had barely risen over the horizon when the performers had arrived to the opera house. John walked in with Greg to see everyone bustling about in a hurry to finish preparations for opening night. The singers were warming up in the audience while the dancers started their stretches along the stage. Greg and John changed into their worn ballet slippers to begin stretching with everyone else. John observed the other performers while he was stretching. The director Moriarty, and to Greg's utter dismay, the producer Mycroft were discussing quite heatedly details of the performance. John couldn't hear what they were saying but it seemed they did not agree. The lead tenor and soprano were warming up together and their voices could be heard clashing throughout the entire building he was sure. Sally was flirting poorly with Anderson who seemed more interested in the idiotic jokes he was making at the expensive of the other dancers. The stage hands seemed to be uninterested in the production as most were already drinking heavily. John sighed to himself; he hoped the opera would be better than this.

As the dancers were finishing up their stretches the lead tenor stomped on stage demanding it cleared for his song. With stiff shoulders and set jaw John walked off stage with the other dancers to watch Paulo's song. Before Paulo sang his first note many of the stage hands were seen plugging their ears one way or another.

Ah! Si ben mio

His singing may have once been considered good but that day has long since passed John thought to himself. Paulo has become lazy and pompous with his voice, his tone wide and unnerving. As he was belting out a line there was movement overhead and the backdrop suddenly fell on top of Paulo shocking everyone on set. John rushed along with other on set to help Paulo out from under the backdrop. Moriarty and Mycroft rushed on stage to comfort their male lead. John looked to Moriarty and on his face he saw a flicker of glee before masking it to fake concern. John shook off the oddity before turning back to an irate Paulo.

"Three years this has been happening! Three years! I cannot take these conditions any longer, I am not some animal." Paulo turned to storm off the stage while yelling behind him to Moriarty, "See how opening night goes without me because I will not be there!"

Moriarty called after him to stay while Mycroft picked up a letter from the ground sealed with a skull. John watched as Mycroft walked toward them with a letter in hand. Moriarty seemed to notice as well for he quit pleeing with the angry tenor to stay. The commotion quickly died down as everyone was eager to hear what Mycroft held in his hands. Mycroft opened the letter and scanned the contents, his face scrunching up into bewilderment. John could swear he saw Mycroft's eyes dart to him once while reading causing his heart to beat frantically in his chest. Oh God, no one can think I had anything to with this attack or I'll surely lose my career. Mycroft cleared his throat, clearly about to reveal the contents of the letter but Moriarty beat him to it as he snatched the letter from Mycroft's grasp.

Moriarty began to read the letter aloud, more for his own merriment it seemed than for the benefit of the cast.

"I will not allow this bumbling fool to inflict his noise upon any more. If you wish to prevent more disaster I suggest replacing your male tenor with Mr. John Watson. Fail to do so will result in the punishment of whoever gets in my way.

-PTO"

Moriarty spoke 'PTO' with such reverence it gave John a slight chill before he realized the letter had specifically called him out to sing the lead male role in the opera tonight. John looked around to see the confused, enraged, and suspicious faces of the cast and crew staring at him. He had to say something.

"I…I um…s-sorry…?" He was flailing out there. John looked at Moriarty for some sort of sign or help and what he saw was unadulterated loathing. John took a step back startled at what he saw before Moriarty shook his head slipping his calm façade back up.

"Well Johnny boy, even though the Phantom seems to think you are the rightful male lead here I very well cannot allow some ballerina that has never proven any vocal ability to suddenly take the lead now can I pet?" Moriarty all but sneered to John. He didn't know how to respond, he was right after all, he didn't ask for this to happen anyway.

"He can sir. Sing that is." Greg interrupted. "I've heard him." John looked to Greg in horror mouthing 'shut up' angrily.

"Is that so Mr. Watson? Well we might as well hear you then and give you a fair shot. I would rather not any more…punishment today."Mycroft stated matter of fact as he leaned against his dark umbrella, "Do carry on."

Greg gave John a push toward the center stage making him stumble toward both Mycroft and Moriarty. "Um…"

Moriarty gave an exaggerated gesture for John to take center stage, his mouth smiled but his eyes glared daggers. John, never one to shy from a fight willed up his courage. He walked with conviction to center stage, he was not going to let Moriarty get the best of him.

The composer looked up to John expectantly.

"Right then. 'Ah! Si ben mio' if you please."

John's smooth tenor rang through the theatre. His fellow performers watched in awe and disbelief. Moriarty glared as if John had personally insulted him, Mycroft watched in mild surprise, and Greg smirked knowingly.

John was terrified. He tried his best to block out all the other people on stage and focus on box five, the ever empty box in the theatre. John was almost done with his solo when he briefly saw movement in the corner of box five. This was the distraction he needed. He focused on the corner while he let out his last note, letting himself go and surrender to the music. John was still looking toward the box when he heard raucous applause and cheers erupt around him. Startled, John turned to see a welcoming sight of energetic and excited faces coming to embrace and congratulate him. Greg enveloped John in an excited embrace all the while cheering. The cheers started to quiet when Mycroft made the announcement, "I think we found our new lead tenor." Moriarty knew he couldn't disagree with Mycroft for John Watson was obviously very talented. He gave a brief nod before descending the stairs back to the audience seats.

John watched Moriarty go back to his seat, barely understanding what Mycroft had said. He couldn't have heard right. John the lead tenor? But as he looked around to see the cheering faces and Greg's ecstatic expression, John knew he heard correct. He was the new lead tenor. John tried to say something but no noise came out so he settled for a beaming smile and enveloping hug from Greg. As John celebrated with the cast he saw for the briefest moment, movement in box five.


	3. Chapter 3

John and the Phantom of the Opera

 **Chapter 3**

Opening night. John never thought this moment would come, it had to be a dream. A very real dream. Somehow he made it through. The lights on stage were so bright he could hardly see the audience giving John the ability to sing without his fright getting the best of him. The final song was sung by the leads, Mary and John. When they finished their number the applause in the theatre was deafening. The cast came out and gave their bows until the curtain closed. Mary jumped onto John giving him a crushing hug, "We did it! You were wonderful John!"

"You too Mary. I couldn't imagine having a better co-lead." John gave an honest smile to the talented and beautiful soprano. "Maybe after the show finishes we could…"

"JOHN!" Greg came barreling through the cast to make his way to John, effectively interrupting the date John that was about to ask Mary. "John! Good job mate you did it! I told you!"

John laughed and nodded, "You did. Thanks Greg."

Greg noticed Mary standing so close to John realizing what he interrupted, "Oh and Mary you were divine, as always."

Mary gave a warm smile, "Thank you Greg. Well I don't know about everyone else but I am dying to get out of this atrocious outfit. See you lot tomorrow though. Good job everyone," Mary looked to John giving him a meaningful look, "John." Mary left for her dressing room.

John and Greg stared after her. "Sorry I interrupted mate! She seems to fancy you." Greg nudged John playfully making John blush slightly. He covered his embarrassment with a cough. "Ah I don't know about that. But she was right I'm dying to get out of this thing." John gestured to the ridiculous outfit he was dressed in for the final number.

"See you tomorrow then." Greg gave a slap on the shoulder before turning to find Molly in the crowd. John made his way to his new private dressing room. Upon opening the door he was overwhelmed with the sight of flowers. Apparently his performance was well received. John fought his way through the bouquets to his couch. Laid across, flowing white pants and shirt, his civilian clothes nowhere to be found. John gave a resigned sigh; well it's better than what he was currently wearing. After changing John walked to the mirrored desk, laying on top was a single rose with a black ribbon tied around it into a bow. He picked up the rose, out of the countless bouquets it was this single rose he appreciated. John didn't understand how something so simple could mean so much to him.

John sat on the couch and wondered who the rose belonged to. He hoped it was Mary but it's normally the man who sends the woman flowers not the other way around. Perhaps he should send her some roses. As John stood up to leave he heard it. The smooth bass from the other day was echoing through his room rooting him in his place. That voice spoke to his very core. He couldn't leave the presence of the voice even if he wanted. The bass sounded as if he was behind him now, on the other side of the room. Slowly, John turned; worried of what he would see when he was fully turned. John was now facing the full body mirror on the opposite wall, no one was in the room with him, yet he could hear the voice becoming louder.

Terrified, John believed the voice to belong to an Angel or a Demon. "Angel?" John called out timidly. The bass notes started to sing to him more clearly. The voice was coming from the mirror.

"Come to the Angel of Music" the voice sang and repeated. Obeying, John slowly began t walk to the mirror until he was within reaching distance. The mirror opened like a door revealing a tall slender man dressed in black. The man in the shadows was wearing a well tailored suit and black dress shoes. A dark cloak flowed behind him as he stood, waiting for John. The man's pale skin seemed to glow in the darkness making him appear by all accounts, an Angel. John noticed all these things and more without ever looking away from the man's face. The mysterious man had a porcelain white mask covering the right side of his face above his slender mouth. Dark curls dipped below his ears and graced his forehead. John could see how beautiful the man should be by looking at his uncovered face, the high cheekbones, piercing blue grey eyes, and pale skin made John become breathless. John stood staring at this man when he spoke. The bass notes rumbled inside of his chest.

"John." The way the man spoke John's name sounded hopeful. The masked man raised out his hand toward John, seemingly asking John to take it. John took careful steps toward the man and slowly reached for the man's smooth hand. He expected his skin to be cold but when he touched him he was surprised by the soft skin and warm touch. The masked man gripped John's and pulled him along the dark tunnels at a brisk pace. The blood pumping through his veins snapped John from his trance. "Who are you?" He called to the man ahead of him. The man glanced behind him with the ghost of a smile on his lips before he replied.

"I am the Phantom of the Opera."


End file.
